Searching
by theangstmachine
Summary: Mainly a writing exercise gone crazy. Beta'd by my mom lol Basically, Thor's devastated by Loki's jump from the Bifrost but no one shares his pain. His room is his only place of solace. Cue tears, and an unexpected love. One-shot.


In the darkness of his room, few emotions are bridled. All day he is squeezing in the excess of hatred, love, loss, fear; in his room, it is welcomed. As he casts down his armor carelessly and scrubs a calloused hand up and down his bearded and youthful face, he lets his mind wander to what it chooses. The first thing it settles upon is his brother. The overwhelming sense of loss is almost too much, until he remembers that here, in his room, it _can _be too much. He can let it out without judgment or worry. And so he cries. Tears aren't new to him, these tears are only fresh of the day. A day spent of hard work and sparring, void of all deep and true feeling. Hiding. He's always hiding. He's sick of it.

If it was his choice he'd have gone searching for his brother weeks ago, but without the help of his father or Heimdall's cooperation, it would be a useless effort. The rest of the court believes there is no reason to search. Why search for someone who is dead? Unless he wanted to take the unpleasant trip to Hel. But that was the key: he _had _taken a trip to Hel. He greeted Loki's half-breed daughter and requested to know of his brother's whereabouts. She told him truthfully that her father had not entered her realm. When he returned to Asgard and bound up to his father's throne in sheer joy, his father did not share his enthusiasm. He seemed bored with the idea of searching. He didn't even want to entertain the thought of Loki still living. Their mother remained an emotionless mask, not budging against the word of the All-Father to, 'stop looking'. Thor was crushed. However, no one, not even his close companions shared the outrage or sadness he felt, and so he went about closing himself up; only showing the Thor that everyone wanted to see. The one that had everything, and deserved it. Soon, everyone forgot about the one who had little, and deserved much more.

Even though his tears steadily stream down his face, he retains some of his anger. With a mighty growl and a fling of his hand, Mjolnir is flung at the wall, crashing into it and denting the stone, falling with a 'thud' back down to the floor instead of being summoned to his master's hand. Thor's shoulders hunch and he feels the pull of emotion suck him deeper into a raw, hurt and vulnerable ball of a god. His dignity means little in comparison to his hurts. How can he feel dignified when he does not look for the brother who always supported him when his plans were flawed, the one who looked up to him when he did not deserve the admiration, the one who constantly took the blame for him when it was in no way his fault?

It is hard for him to cease his tears when there's a knock at the door. Try as he may, the sobs that rack his body do not slow, so he hopes vainly that the person will tire of knocking and leave him be.

"Thor?"

He covers his face with his large hands and prays to the Norms that they will see his indisposal and choose to leave.

"What is the matter?" It is the voice of a woman, Thor recognizes. He summons a shred of hope that maybe it will be a lowly servant girl; one whom he can use to hug and cry his weariness onto.

His face raises and he is met with deep brown eyes. It is not a servant girl. The lady Sif stands unforgivingly intimidating, though her eyes lack their usual hardness. She is wearing a look he's never seen on her before. He doesn't know what to make of it, and as she advances towards him, he isn't sure if he should feel threatened or not.

"Thor. I asked you a question." Her voice lowers considerably, now obviously worried about her friend's distressed state. Thor doesn't know how to respond. Doesn't know what to say after so long of bottling it up.

She comes to stand in front of him, towering over him from his seat on his couch. Thor cannot speak, he is overcome with the overwhelming urge to grab her and not let go. The subject of his affections never really mattered to Thor, he only wanted to feel comforted; loved. Safe. So he grabs the lady Sif and squeezes her around her middle, resting his head just below her breast. He half expects her to push him back and injure him for his disrespect of her body, but she instead allows him to hold her. Her body is harsh and toned from training, but as Thor inhales, he swears he has never felt someone so soft. Her armor is gone, she must have taken it off before coming to visit him, and her casual wear allows him to grip her torso without hard metal and leather restricting him.

Sif moves after a while, placing her long fingers into his hair and sighing. She pulls a band from her wrist and gently works his long hair into a neat bun on the back of his head. The action soothes him, and the tears slow. His affections being reciprocated was something he had yet to experience. Her hands moved gently down to his neck and shoulders, softly kneading the muscles there as his cries died down and he nuzzled his face against her belly, drying his tears. She remained silent the whole time, somehow ensuring Thor that she wouldn't judge him, and he didn't need to explain his pain to her.

He lifted his head up to meet her open and worried gaze. All her emotions were conveyed in that one look and she didn't have to say anything more for Thor to understand that he was loved and supported. This brought about a fresh round of tears. Sif changed her position and lifted a knee to straddle his waist. Thor got her intentions and helped her into his lap, so that he could rest his head against her voluminous breasts. Her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and she laid her head onto his. Her fingers lightly ran up and down the back of his head, worrying the hairs that were too short to be bound in her tie.

"I'm sorry to burden you with my weakness." Thor's words came out in a whisper, his vulnerability showing its peak.

Sif tutted above him, lovingly cupping the back of his neck and pressing a kiss to his hair. "Your burden is as heavy to me as it is to you."

Thor took a shuddering inhale of breath and broke away from his resting place to look up at her. "I do not want this to be once. Please do not leave me alone to my hollow heart any longer, Sif, I beg of you. I pray that you're not scared away by my cowardly show of emotion."

"Shh now, Thor. Your heart will never be hollow while I am here. And when I am not, you can take mine to lull away your worries." Sif pressed a chaste kiss to his lips to seal her conviction, and pulled away to see a bit of Thor's tension rising from his brow. She let her fingers smooth over his face, tracing the outline of his eyes and mouth, easing away all hint of fatigue.

As his lips find hers again, a release of stress is found from both of them. Sif works out the strain, leaving Thor tired and energized all at the same time. Sif's heart is finally filled with something she knew she wanted but was unable to attain. Both of them find solace in each other's lips, and as they part, it is a silent but heavy assumption that Sif will help Thor search for his brother; she will help him put the pieces of his life back together, and he will be forever and ever grateful towards the woman that loved him for so long but he never knew to love back.

The end.


End file.
